Blind
by LovelySlytheriness
Summary: Astoria knows, but she pretends she doesn't.


Blind

He always wakes her up in the same way each morning, placing a soft kiss to her forehead. Astoria looks at him from underneath her dark bangs and smiles.

"Good morning," Draco whispers into her ear, blonde hair falling into his eyes.

She watches under silence as he dresses; crisp Auror robes very dark against his hair and skin. His eyes gleam grey in the mirror, and Astoria closes her eyes.

He would say it soon, any moment now. She knows it, simply because he always does, but it never stops hurting.

"I will be late tonight."

Her eyes draw open, and she smiles. Because he expects her to.

He turns to look at her properly, walking over to her where she waits in their bed. "I'm sorry," he says softly. "This latest case Potter and I have on our table… It's really killing me."

He presses another kiss to her forehead, and then he Apperates.

"Yes," Astoria says into the now empty room. "Me too."

Draco Malfoy arrives to the Auror office five minutes past eight. Harry is there, sitting at his desk. He's not wearing his robes, and his white shirt is wrinkled. A cup of coffee steams beside him.

Draco watches as Harry rubs his eyes and looks up, green eyes meeting calm grey ones over files and convictions.

"You're late," Harry points out, nodding towards the clock. He tries to sound reproachful, but Draco hears the smile in his voice.

"You're early," Draco replies, taking a step forward. The Aurors Department around them is very quiet.

Harry says: "I never left."

Harry's head is tilted a bit much towards him than what really is necessary, and Draco leans forward.

Then, Harry's lips are on his and Harry's hands grasp his hair, and Draco's fist is clenched around the fabric of Harry's shirt.

_Every time_, Draco thinks.

Every time he kisses Harry he feels like this.

Like he's been looking for something in the dark for so long, not knowing what it was until _it_ found _him_.

"Astoria?"

Astoria Malfoy turns around. She's in Diagon Alley with little Scorpius, who is tugging impatiently at her robes.

"Ginny," Astoria offers pleasantly as she recognises Harry Potter's wife's red hair and pretty freckled face.

"Hello Scorpius," Ginny smiles as she looks down to the little boy who is the splitting image of his father. He is only four years old, but the resemblance is already uncanny.

"How are you?" Ginny Potter asks, her face friendly and bright.

Astoria wonders if she knows.

"I'm very well, thank you. And you?"

Ginny just laughs. "I could use a vacation," she confesses, although Astoria doesn't detect any real tension behind the statement. "James and Albus are quite the handful, I don't mind telling you."

Astoria smiles. "I can imagine," she says softly.

"It would be easier if Harry didn't spend so much time at work," Ginny continues. Then she grins. "But you would of course know all about that, since Draco and Harry are partners."

"Yes," Astoria admits. "They're not around a lot, are they?"

"Tell you what," Ginny says, "How about dinner, all four of us Friday night? God knows I could use a pleasant dinner."

Astoria's heart clenches at the thought of having to be in the same room as Draco and Potter. To see the looks between them that they think are so subtle, to watch Draco stand a little bit too close to Potter, to see Potter blush under Draco's gaze.

"That would be lovely," she hears herself reply.

Ginny's bright face is soon gone, and Scorpius tugs at her long robes again.

"How rude," Draco comments as he comes up behind Astoria where she stands in front of the mirror, his arm around her neck, hand caressing her collarbone.

She frowns. "What is?"

Draco's hands travel along the line of her body, sneaks around her waist, and his eyes meets her in the mirror.

"Your beauty," he explains softly into her ear. "It's not polite to outshine the hostess."

Astoria leans back into his touch, and allows herself to believe that he truly means it.

Harry's arms are around Ginny, and she looks up at him with the same adoration and love he saw in her face when she was eleven.

"The food smells delicious," he tells her.

"The kids are asleep," she says, biting her lip as she presses herself closer to Harry. "Do you think we have the time to enjoy ourselves before – "

The sound of bells echoes through the house, and Harry let's go of her almost immediately. He gives her a crooked grin, then leaves to open the door.

"I guess not," Ginny shrugs as she follows her husband to greet their guests.

Harry is sitting opposite Astoria with Draco next to him at the table. Ginny is opposite Draco because it's closer to the kitchen. The candlelight casts a waxy and pleasant glow across their faces, and Harry raises his wine glass for another toast.

He is happy when Draco begins to tell them all an anecdote, because then Harry can stare at his face without anyone noticing.

Soon, Harry feels a hand coming to rest on his thigh beneath the table. He realises that it's Draco's of course, and tries to will his breathing to stay under control. Then, Draco's fingers travel along the inside of his leg and Harry has to bite back a moan.

Their wives are _right there_ in front of them, but oh _God_, Draco's hand is wicked and Harry realises that he doesn't want him to stop and he's mortified.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Ginny soon asks, looking at him. "You're all sweaty."

"Fine," Harry says, his voice a bit less deep than normally. "It was just the chili, that's all."

"Sissy," Draco drawls, and Harry sees the affection in his eyes.

Astoria laughs with the others, however beneath the table she clenches her fist so tightly that it draws blood from where her nails dig into her palm.

"I hate seeing you with her," Draco growls as he pushes Harry against the wall of Harry's study. They're there for brandy; their wives downstairs, gossiping.

His kiss is hard and almost desperate, and Harry clutches to Draco as he moans as silently as he can.

Draco's body is hard and flush against his, and Harry's head lolls back as Draco nibbles at his earlobe.

"You're mine," Draco breathes into his ear as his hand grasps the front of Harry's shirt.

"Always," Harry says, simply because he is.

That night, Draco recalls how it all began. After the war, after the trials. In Auror training. Harry's eyes vivid in a battle, his body pressed against Draco in a physical struggle.

Their conversations. Realisations and apologies.

Fire whiskey and hurried kisses.

Then, love.

Draco looks at Astoria's sleeping form next to him, moonlight pouring in through the window.

She is his living, breathing mistake.

He doesn't sleep that night.

"Harry?"

"Yes?" he asks, eyes on the document before him.

"Didn't you and Malfoy go up here to drink brandy last night?"

Harry looks up at Ginny. He feels uncertain.

"Yes," he replies warily.

Ginny frowns as she holds up the bottle. Its seal isn't broken, and the bottle is full. She raises one eyebrow questionably.

"Draco brought a special one," Harry says at last. He feels his face redden. "It was goblin made."

Ginny doesn't say anything after that.

She doesn't comment on the love bite behind his ear that Harry doesn't know he has.

The doorbell echoes throughout the manor late that evening, and Astoria isn't surprised when she opens the door to find a very sombre looking Ginny Potter.

"Hello," Ginny says. "Is Draco home?"

Astoria looks at her eyes. They're not bright, not anymore. She knows, Astoria realises.

"Is Harry?" Astoria asks, somewhat dryly.

A tense silence stretches between them before Ginny speaks:

"Kingsley says they haven't been appointed a mission this week." Ginny sounds almost pleading, as though she wants Astoria to deny this.

Astoria just sighs. "Of course not," she mumbles, eyes on the floor.

"How long have you known?" Ginny asks, voice almost breaking.

Astoria looks up. "For too long," she says.

Ginny is crying silent tears, and to Astoria's surprise, so does she.

"Draco?"

Draco turns to look at Harry. They're in a single bed in a small Inn, their bodies sleek with sweat. Harry isn't wearing his glasses, and he looks so much younger without them.

"Yes?" Draco asks, tracing Harry's scar with his index finger.

Harry's eyes fall shut. "Do you think they know?" he whispers.

Draco asks quietly: "Is it terrible that I hope they do?"

Harry shivers. "I want to end this charade," he says. "I only want you."

Draco almost chokes on gratitude as he kisses Harry, soundly and hungrily.

"Do you know for how long I have waited to hear that?" Draco breathes into his hair.

"For too long," Harry replies.

There is silence, a long, comfortable silence, before Draco speaks again.

"I love you."

And in that moment, everything is strangely perfect.


End file.
